Dec. 23, 2012

Cu Chi, S. Vietnam, 1969. I returned to my hooch one evening after drinking a beer at our battalion’s “officer’s club.” Inside, a GI I didn’t recognize was going through my footlocker. I yelled at him then he ran toward the door where I was standing. He swung at me, hit me on the chin and I fell to the plywood floor.

I got up, grabbed my M-16 and ran after him yelling “Halt!” He didn’t. I drew a bead on him but lowered my weapon knowing no good would come from shooting him. He sprinted off into the darkness.

I was angry; my testosterone was boiling. After I calmed down, I figured he was a druggie looking for money to feed his habit. I told myself that he’d never show his face in our area again because I’d recognize him. The incident was over; it was time to let it go.

I’ve never touched a weapon since my tour in Vietnam. I have no need for or interest in weapons. They have no place in my life. I’ve seen what military-style weapons can do to a human body. They are very efficient at meeting their design function — enough said.

In light of the Aurora and Newtown massacres, those who support the NRA’s stand on assault weapons need to go through the same process I did that sultry night in Vietnam. It’s time to lower your guns and think through the cost of so much fire power in — not always — rational hands.